


Noble Intentions

by InerrantErotica



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Battle Couple, Elites | Sangheili - Freeform, F/M, Oral Sex, Prison, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27662336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InerrantErotica/pseuds/InerrantErotica
Summary: Spartans never die. That's the line at least. In this case, they were right. Narrowly avoiding a certain death on Reach, Noble Six is taken prisoner by the most peculiar Sangheili captor...
Relationships: Noble Six | SPARTAN-B312/Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Noble Intentions

Noble Six discarded her helmet. After taking one too many plasma pistol bursts and the radiation from all of Reach getting glassed, her shields were done. Now that scratched up piece of metal and glass on her head was doing her more harm than good. She threw it to the ground and reached for a nearby assault rifle.

She was going to fight until the bitter end, even if she was the last Spartan on Reach. An alien came at her blasting his plasma rifle, the squid-faced elite in white advancing upon her with far more confidence than sense. She unloaded into him until his shields popped and he fell forward. Another came up behind Six, energy sword in hand.

Six whirled around, elbow-first, knocking the alien onto the dirt. She drew her sidearm and put one right in its split-jaw mouth. Volleys of superheated plasma came at her from two directions, melting through her armor.

She fired her rifle in one hand, pistol in the other, fighting through the pain to drop two of the bastards before a third charged at her and knocked her to the ground. He lunged forward, sword ready to end her, but she planted her boot in his groin and kicked him away.

The Spartan had no time to react before a zealot was upon her. She punched him across his ugly face, the impact sending the sword flying from his hands. The Elites drew their energy daggers and came at her, the first stabbing deep into the ground behind her as she just managed to get out of the way in time.

Six just barely managed to throw him off, but the other already had his blade drawn. He raised his fist up and growled, the dagger glowing with terrible keenness. In her current position, she knew she wouldn’t be able to dodge in time. This was it.

As he brought his weapon down upon her, there was a cry from afar- something harsh and guttural in the aliens’ tongue. She heard an energy sword exploding to life… and the dagger fell just beside her head, the plasma’s heated edge searing her earlobe.

A massive hand slammed over her face. She reached for her own dagger, one made of steel instead of energy… but a sudden weight crushed her wrist and pushed her hand all the way to her shoulder. She punched and kicked until she could struggle no more, at last succumbing to a fatigue borne from days of constant battle. She hadn’t a moment of rest since the Pillar of Autumn escaped, only now feeling a hint of exhaustion when it seemed like she was finally at her limit.

At the realization that they were trying to take her alive, Six felt her own body betray her. Tricked into believing the danger was over, her muscles seized and her tendons clenched up in painful knots all over.

She was wholly immobilized, pinned by the elites and her own body’s unwillingness to move against the half-ton of armor weighing down on her.

The alien removed his four fingered hand from her head, revealing a woman both peculiar and beautiful. She was ebon skinned, save for patches of lightness that appeared almost peeled away in irregular patterns. Nearly a third of her face was covered in such patches, the largest of which stretched across her temple and seemed to bleach her hair white where it would have been upon her scalp. The rest of her hair was curly and black, short enough to wear a helmet but long enough to have a bounce to its springy coils.

Six’s vitiligo did not manifest until she was already well into the Spartan program. It didn’t interfere with her augmentations or training in any way beyond some… aesthetic discomfort. With a dark complexion everywhere else, the woman had no pigmentation whatsoever in the affected areas. They tended to come and go, the dappled pattern shifting and moving across her body that at times made her feel like a very slow camouflaging octopus- almost as alien as the creatures besieging humanity. Perhaps it was fortunate that she was a Spartan- for so long as she kept her helmet on, nobody asked her any stupid questions about her skin.

“You fought well, demon.” A deep voice rumbled.

A momentary relief swept over her, followed by dawning horror as she realized that voice belonged to no human… but one of the aliens. She looked over, half her face in the dirt, to see a Covenant Field Marshal removing his helmet.

With his face every bit as monstrous unmasked as it was veiled, the Sangheili looked down upon her with unblinking eyes. They were small and yellow, yet she saw in them a certain coldness and precision. He stared at her appraisingly and then knelt down.

“Mm. No… ‘Demon’ isn’t what you call yourselves.” He said, his voice low and rumbling, “It’s Spartan, isn’t it?”

Six knew she didn’t have any of that prototype translation software installed in her armor, so the only explanation was that this alien actually spoke her language. From everything she knew about his single-mindedly fanatic race, this one was an extraordinary exception to the norms of his kind...

“Do you have a name, Spartan?”

Six didn’t say a word.

“The strong and silent type, mm?” The Sangheili seemed to smile, best as she could tell from his monstrous visage, “Respectable. If a bit… typical.”

He stood up, barked some commands in his own guttural tongue. The Elites dragged Six up onto her knees, pulling her away from the spot where her helmet would remain. Exhaustion overtook her, and she closed her eyes for just a moment. A moment that would last for hours.

…  
…  
…

A week had passed in Covenant captivity. They stripped her of all her armor, to include the inner skinsuit. Surrounded by the sleek purples, cyans and pinks of the aliens’ bizarre shipcraft, Six found herself… comfortable enough in their prison. She was afforded no clothing, only noticing now how the patterns of her vitiligo had shifted and wandered over her body since she last saw herself naked. Predictably, the Elites didn’t seem to care one way or the other about her nudity.

On the first day, they gave her captured medkits to treat her wounds. It seemed like the Covenant didn’t believe in doctors… she kept the scissors and stowed them away in her cell, biding her time. Every day she was given UNSC rations to eat, delivered to her by the strange field marshal who had spared her before. Many times he attempted to interrogate her from the other side of her prison cell, and she never gave him a single word.

More than anything, being a POW was so mind-numbingly… boring. There was nothing to do but sleep and think. She worked out to bring her closer to the former and stave off any temptation of the latter.

She did push ups until her arms got tired. Six didn’t even bother to count them, though it was certainly a few hundred at a time. Up and down she went, legs perfectly straight, her elbows tucked into her muscled sides. She looked straight ahead, eyes fixated on a certain spot on the wall in front of her. She dropped until her breasts flattened against the cold purple floor, then rose until her arms were completely straight. Up and down she went, the taut muscles of her legs and rear end barely moving. Her guards must have thought it was some sort of… ritual of sorts. Perhaps it was.

After at least a thousand, beads of sweat had formed all over her body, one hanging off the tip of her nose. She could still go for a few dozen more… but decided against it. Six rolled over onto her back, brought her knees up and started doing sit-ups. Her abs remained tight as ever as she sat up and went all the way back down, spine completely straight. The Spartan didn’t cheat herself a single inch.

This went on, every day and all day, until the field marshal came to her intent on talking a little more than usual. He brought with him some strange Covenant furniture and sat on it outside her cell, talking to her through the translucent barrier.

“I have been granted command of the Reach Garrison.” He said, “This means I control the pace of its… glassing, I believe is the word you use.”

Six looked at him coldly through the shields.

He leaned in closer, “I think it would be… a terrible waste. Ending humanity, that is.”

Still no response from the woman.

“This is, of course, heresy… but no one else among my brothers can understand a human language.” He sighed, “I have won the Covenant many glorious victories with such knowledge… yet I confess it is with a heavy heart that I consider the possibility of your race’s extinction.”

Six blinked, showing just a crack in her resolve.

“There are yet remnants of your people on Reach. If you begin to speak to me, I can divert the garrison away from this place. Enough to guarantee some will survive.”

If he knew this much, Six thought, then he surely understood that she wasn’t about to give up Earth or anything else. She couldn’t even if she wanted to.

He remained silent for a long time, and then sighed, “Say something. Anything. I am the only one who understands you… but if you begin to talk, then I can say you’ve revealed secrets. Reasons for me to dispatch ships offworld. I have many questions about your people and… yourself.”

“Alright…” The Spartan said, barely recognizing her own voice and withholding it for so long. She got up off of the floor and stood up, confronting him directly, “Shoot.”

…  
…  
…

Another week had passed, this time the days were no longer so tedious and uneventful. The Sangheili Field Marshal identified himself as Saranee Was’anur, and seemed quite eager to share with her the details of his own life and upbringing. Most of it was lost on her, the aliens’ culture being too obtuse and foreign for her to fully grasp. He was different from most of his kind, that much was sure. It was a testament to his skill in battle that he should rise so high up in the ranks of the Covenant with such a cloud of heresy about him. It spoke volumes of his politician acumen and cunning.

“Sooner or later.” He sighed, “I think I will be bestowed the ‘honor’ of becoming an Arbiter. That is what they do to Sangheili who threaten to outshine the Hierarchs.”

He let out a bitter laugh, seemingly resigned to his fate, “Sooner or later, my luck will run out… but capturing you might just be my greatest turn of fortune.”

At first, Six told him very little. Only things that she was certain he already knew or items of no consequence. She told him of her childhood before entering the program, of Jericho VII before it was glassed. He seemed… almost compassionate, but from the moment he opened his split mouth, Six saw it was a regret borne of pragmatism, not empathy.

Saranee confessed that he had hoped humanity would join the Covenant at the end of this war, subjugated like the Grunts, Drones, and Hunters. He seemed to indicate that the Hierarchs had other intentions… ulterior intentions.

“We have been at war for twenty six years.” He said, almost wistfully, “In that time, your people have shown such incredible tenacity and cunning. Humans are constantly evolving, changing and improving… while the Covenant, and my people with them, have remained fixed in the same tired old mentality for the last one thousand years. What could our races do together, I wonder? What could we do together?”

Six shrugged. He was certainly… a talkative alien. It suited her fine; the more he went on, the less she had to speak.

“When our warriors first met on the field of glorious battle, my people thought you were… parasites living inside the armor you wear. ‘Nishum’ is the word. We couldn’t understand how something so small and… soft could be so competent in war-making. Now you Spartans are the equal to a Sangheili in hand-to-hand combat. It is remarkable. If this war goes on for another decade, we may very well be the ones who lose.”

Six could only hope... she was tempted to tell him that Earth was all there was left now, praying that he might somehow single-handedly end the war before all was lost.... but she kept silent, knowing that would have been incredibly stupid to let that slip. It was doubtful that they could hide Earth’s existence for another year, much less ten.

“I do find it… curious, though.” He mused, “Spartans were originally made to hunt other humans. To cleanse your own… heresies.”

Suddenly, the fall of Reach had put everything into perspective. A pit grew in her stomach as she considered her anti-insurrectionist activities prior to joining Noble team. By her estimation, she might have been responsible for more human KIA than alien… and this uncomfortable feeling only intensified as she considered Saranee to be something akin to an insurgent to the Covenant’s dogma. Did they have their own anti-insurrectionist supersoldier groomed and trained to become his executioner? 

As Saranee lamented the foolishness of this war with humanity, Six could only think of the stupidity of human infighting… As he spoke resentfully of the prophets who persecuted the war against humanity, she thought bitterly of her old commander, the man who had made her into his private assassin. After what happened on Reach, it all seemed so… pointless.

“That’s… a different kind of silence than the one you usually give me.” The Sangheili observed.

Six felt a smile tugging at her lips, even though she didn’t want to give it out so freely. He was rather observant, this Saranee. He had a certain way with words too...

He stood up and paced outside the cell for awhile before he dramatically stopped and said, “Let me do something for you.”

“You’re gonna let me go?” Six asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice and posture.

He chuckled, a low rumble to his voice rolling in waves.

“No.” He sharply answered, then corrected himself, “Well, in a manner of speaking. For a little bit.”

He went to a console by the cell, tapping the hard light controls until the barrier between them dissolved. Six’s eyes flashed to the bent away panel on the wall where she hid the medkit’s scissors. Completely naked, she didn’t exactly have anywhere else to hide it… and with Saranee’s eyes upon her, she felt it nigh impossible to make her way over undetected.

So she indulged him, walking out of the cell to join him outside.

“Come.” He said, turning his back to her.

A remarkable show of good faith, Six observed. Even without her armor, she wagered she could kill a Sangheili if she got the drop on him. He led her through strange hallways. The grunts gave her strange and fearful looks, while the Elites showed deference and respect to their commander.

She did her best to map out the place in her head.

He brought her to the hangar, where a half dozen other Sangheili seemed to be waiting for them by a Phantom troop transport. The aliens barked at each other in their strange tongue, though she felt no derision from their curious glances. Her company among the Field Marshal seemed to afford her some small measure of respect.

She was bid to enter the transport with them, standing amongst the enemy like she was going into battle with them.

“Where are we going?” Six asked as they closed the bay doors and prepared to take off.

“You are a warrior.” He declared, “Like us. I have given you food and water but not battle.”

The Spartan smirked. She wondered where ‘battle’ fit in on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. She stood shoulder to… chest with Elites to her left and right. As the Phantom began to take off, Saranee stood before her, producing her combat knife. He raised it up, flipped it deftly in his fingers and presented it to her, hilt-first. She looked down, thrusting her hand out to snatch it.

He pulled it just out of reach and laughed. Then he offered it to her again, this time much higher. She lunged for a second time and fell short a second time. He offered it to her a third time to the left and then a fourth to the right. She finally grabbed the knife on the final attempt. Down, up, left, right. It seemed like a ritual at this point.

“Agricultural support ships accompany all of our major fleets.” He began to explain. One of his comrades interrupted him, and he replied quickly in his own tongue before returning his attention to Six, “There we may hone our skills or enjoy hunts of recreation. After being cooped up in that cell all this time, I thought you might enjoy the thrill of the chase.”

She had to admit it was nice to be out of there and to hold a real weapon again, even if it was a mere knife… but still, she felt like they expected her to put on a cheap show- like some gladiator battling for their amusement. She dropped her hands to her sides and looked up at him.

“Why don’t you give me a sword and make this interesting?” Six said, shooting him a sly smile.

“I am pushing my luck bringing you here at all. So many watching eyes...” He answered, the sway from the ship flying off bringing him closer to her, “They think I’m getting useful information out of you. That I am indoctrinating you and making you my… pet.”

“Thanks.” She narrowed her eyes.

“It’s the only reason you’re still alive.” He sharply concluded.

The ride was short and Six couldn’t help but play with the knife a bit on the way there. She’d gotten used to her nudity by now. Covenant ships were neither warm nor cold, so she didn’t feel any discomfort on that account. Saranee hadn’t said a word about her… condition, and she doubted the rest of the Covenant could tell that there was anything amiss about her appearance.

In the support ship, she drew the glares and suspicious looks of so many menial Unngoy. Saranee’s cadre made their way through the halls and up a gravity lift until they brought her to the preserve- the hunting grounds. The doors opened up to reveal a complete ecosystem, an artificial jungle filled with all kinds of alien flora and fauna. Up above she saw the stars through the domed exterior. Water dripped from above… like it was raining inside this massive Covenant ship.

Six broke away from the group of Elites, closing her eyes and raising her head up to meet the gentle deluge as she walked. She had gone this whole time without a shower or any other means of hygiene- there was only so much mileage a woman could get out of ration wet naps. It had been far too long…

She just stood there, seemingly for eternity, basking in the feeling of fresh water falling upon her skin, washing away sweat and grime and anxiety all. Saranee looked upon her with more... interest than any of his brothers. He knew enough about humans to appreciate the specimen before him.

The rain ran down her powerful physique, rivulets crawling into the valleys of her muscles and other, more intimate places. He watched little beads of rainwater blaze trails over her dappled skin, crossing the lighter patches of her body without any regard for its differences. He half expected for the water to wash away the irregularities of her complexion. He still didn’t know what to make of her skin, though he was certainly curious.

Saranee was beginning to… appreciate the human body more. He found beauty in what was once unsightly to him- grace in womanhood and strength in slightness. His eyes followed her muscled back, down her spine and to her firm rear end… After a while, Six returned from her reverie and turned around to face him. Water ran down her breasts and abs and into her groin, giving a sheen to her whole figure.

“I told them you wanted to hunt.” He said, “My elites are eager to see what a spartan is capable of without her armor. They still think of you as a… Nishum.”

The others jocularly laughed and joked among themselves at the word.

He meant to show her off, to put on display the prowess of his ‘pet’ and to show his men how a human could be made to hunt and fight and partake in their rituals just like any other species of the Covenant.

So hunt she did.

Six waded naked into the alien rainforest, having not the slightest clue what manner of exotic flora and fauna awaited her. Grim thoughts ran through her head of giant fly traps or constricting vines, colossal monsters like the Gúta of Reach. The Elites kept at a distance, content to merely observe her…

Despite all uncertainty, the Spartan did not fear the unknown. Knife in hand, she would meet any adversary without hesitation.

A rustling through the leaves caught her attention, and the sound of some plodding beast. If she had any advantage, it was that this predator likely did not know what manner of creature she was. Doubt bred hesitation and hesitation brought death. Six advanced, pushing aside a great pink ribbed leaf and revealing behind it a snarling quadrupedal beast- with whipping tendrils sticking out of its back, sharp claws, and two mandibles flanking its slavering maw. It seemed covered in a hard carapace like armor, with only a few gaps for her to exploit.

It hesitated… so she rushed forward. The creature lashed out with a ferocious roar meant to dissuade her. She ducked under its frenzied swipes and tackled it up into the air, her dagger impaled between one of the thinner plates of its underbelly. She felt a warm splatter on her body, her breasts and abs bathed in luminescent blue blood. Six threw the beast onto the jungle floor and fell upon it, mashing its skull into the ground and slamming her knife into its throat. She let it flail, pulling free her weapon and retreating a few steps as it writhed in agony.

Six wiped the blood off her knife on her muscled thigh, a habit more than anything. Only when she realized that she lacked a sheath for the blade did she notice the pointlessness of such an action.

“Hmhmhm.” Saranee softly laughed from behind her, his tone so deep and pleased. He put his hands on her shoulders as the beast took its last breath, “A good kill.”

Already the rain was starting to wash away the blood. Six closed her eyes and lifted her head back, into the Sangheili’s chest. To feel the rush of battle again, even for this brief and tenuous moment… it felt good.

…  
…  
…

Another month had passed, or perhaps more, and Six’s prison conditions steadily improved. It appeared that the Covenant did not want to furnish her with any human comforts, so her cell was adorned with various… oddities of the alien races. She didn’t know how to use half of them- and had little interest besides.

The excursions to the hunting preserve occured on a regular basis- she joined the Elites for ‘dinner’ on every occasion, all partaking in the meat of her kill. Slowly they stopped glaring at her and even on occasion would give her a silent nod of acknowledgement. She was still waiting for the moment to escape, but in the meantime… if Saranee was helping her gain their trust and keep her alive, she would take advantage of the opportunity and play the role of his human ‘pet’.

She had a lot of time to look upon herself in those long periods of boredom, at least everything she could see without a mirror. The dappled patterns of varying pigmentation had moved around upon her- some patches growing and others shrinking, a few disappearing altogether. She had no idea what her face might have looked like- or her rear… but, strangely, there was comfort to the fact that it didn’t seem to matter in the company of these aliens.

Her talks with Saranee continued, Six ever evasive about anything of any real use. One day, a brute came to her cell, snarling and growling with bestial savagery. He said nothing, not even to the elites stationed around the block, and then soon departed.

She didn’t see the Field Marshal for several days after that… until he came down with another alien stool of sorts and sat down before her.

“Spartan.” He said, “I have good news. The glassing of Reach has been postponed. Thanks to you, there should still be survivors left on it…”

“But?” Six asked, sensing his foul mood.

“I have been summoned to High Charity. With you.” Saranee sighed, “The Council wishes to pass judgement upon you.”

“So that’s the bad news.” She tersely replied.

He let slip a semblance of a smile, best as she could estimate a Sangheili was capable of, saying, “I will see what I can do. I must confess you are… important to me.”

Suddenly, Six felt something. A feeling she had never had before, in response to words she had never heard before. Her only defense mechanism was more sarcastic banter, “Catching… feelings for your pet now?”

“No.” He said, turning away and leaving her.

…  
…  
…

Six was doing pushups in her cell when the whole structure rumbled and shook. She stood up as the lights began to flicker for just a few seconds. The Elites guarding the prison block seemed just as confused, barking to each other in their foreign tongue. Then Saranee came up on comms across the whole ship, issuing his commands and decrees.

The Elites outside let out a battle cry and ran off, leaving her completely alone. Six ran to her hiding spot, at last about to make use of her stolen scissors. Not much of a weapon compared to her knife but it would do in a pinch. It seemed like they were under attack- had a UNSC fleet actually gotten the drop on them in transit to High Charity? Were they mounting some ill-advised rescue operation? She could only hope.

Six bided her time and waited. A power failure might short out the barrier to her cell, but that might also mean life support failures or zero gravity… Best case scenario, someone actually manages to board the ship and free her.

The doors outside opened and three aliens rushed inside, fully armored and bloodied by combat. They were… Brutes. Aside from the one who had come to inspect her, she hadn’t seen one since Reach. Their language was even more ugly and unpleasant than the Elites and it appeared that they could rarely let out a sentence without pounding something with their fist. They quickly found their objective; her. She assessed them in a heartbeat- noting they each carried red plasma rifles. They all wore their armor differently, the gaps and weak points inconsistent between them. One of them went to the console, lowering the barrier with a mashing of his meaty paws.

He snarled with satisfaction as he approached. Among all the races of the Covenant, the ape-like Brutes were the most savage. They enjoyed killing not for glory or for victory but for its own sake… they enjoyed getting up close and personal with their prey. So of course this dumb bastard holstered his rifle on his hip and walked right up to her, intent on choking or bashing her to death.

He lunged at her and she dropped low, tackling him into the wall. His comrades laughed and snorted, fearing little from the unarmored and apparently unarmed woman. Six reached low, in between his legs. She grabbed onto something, anything, and twisted. The Brute let out a cry of agony and she drove the scissors into his throat. It broke in her fingers when he batted her away. Now very much enraged, the monstrous alien lunged for her again and she shoulder checked him.

The other two got impatient with this sorry display of botched murder, roaring at their comrade to finish it. Instead, Six kicked his knee out from under him and then wrapped her arms around his head. With a twist, she broke his neck and let him fall to the ground.

Her prospects weren’t great. She managed to kill one but the other two were armed with rifles at point blank range. A shield would have been nice… but the Spartan was completely naked.

Six thought just one more dead alien was a good trade for all the time she spent in captivity.

The crash of an energy sword bursting to life broke her free from those fatalistic portents of doom. Saranee appeared behind one of the Brutes, stabbing him in the spine with little regard for honor. The shock drew the last Brute’s gaze away from her and so she took the opportunity to grab the rifle off the body at her feet and charge straight at him. Six knocked him to the ground, then put the plasma rifle into his snarling maw and fired until it overheated. She discarded the sizzling weapon and stood up to face the Field Marshal.

“Well fought.” Saranee laughed. He extinguished his energy sword and produced for Six her combat knife, “There is little time to-”

She took her weapon and immediately stabbed his hand with it, dropping his sword emitter to the ground. Brutes or Elites, they were all enemies of humanity. She thought Saranee the most dangerous of them all. If she had a chance to get rid of him now, even if it meant undermining her own likelihood of survival… then she was going to take it.

He merely laughed at this betrayal, throwing her away. He didn’t throw any punches but rather attempted to grapple and subdue her without harming the woman.

“You never give up!” He exclaimed, pointing at her with his bleeding hand, “You waited so patiently to strike, ahaha!”

He was absolutely thrilled! Saranee was howling with delight, throwing himself at her with little regard for his own safety. He seized her wrists and they struggled for a bit before their eyes locked.

Six had grown… accustomed his face. What was once so grotesque became more palatable with time. His bumpy leathery skin seemed less offensive than it did a month ago, and she saw in his yellow slitted eyes an expression utter fascination and joy. He leaned his head forward, splitting his mandibles as if to go for her jugular. Yet instead of a bite, Six felt… a kiss? -or something resembling a kiss from the maw of a Sangheili. A lesser woman, without so many augments and a lifetime of conditioning, would have found it painful. He covered the rows of teeth on his mandibles with his ‘lips’, slathering her throat in thick spit. At least she assumed it was spit.

She had never felt anything like this before. It was strange but not entirely unpleasant. It was beginning to give her the same kind of adrenaline rush she usually only got from battle… so she did what came naturally to her. She punched him in the gut.

He stepped backwards, laughing all the while. She continued the assault, slashing wildly with her knife. He shoved her away, until her back was against the wall.

“I will have you, Spartan.” He said, dropping his hands to his waist and removing some kind of harness that kept his armor in place, “-or I shall die in the attempt.”

As the armor plating fell to the floor around his feet, he pulled down a flap on his suit and revealed a strange… bulging slit. Then, with a press of two fingers against the sides, out sprang forth a thick violet member, unmistakably an instrument of sex, with a ridge along the top and tapering to a pointed head.

“You want it?” Six smiled, beckoning him with her knife, “Come and get it.”

Saranee roared with delight, batting away her hand and growling into her face as he grabbed her leg and lifted it up. She found herself hooking her foot around his waist and, with a little maneuvering, he probed at her womanhood with his unwieldy cock.

In one singular thrust, he was inside of her. The Spartan let out a groan, wrapping her arms around him and holding on. It was certainly painful… in all the right ways. It was not unlike the burn in her muscles that she would feel after a hard workout. Pleasure borne from pain.

Saranee let out a triumphant roar, urging himself forward and pressing her body into the wall. Six took his cock as deep as it could go, reflexively squeezing him. It was her way of making him work for it- of giving him a fight. She never stopped resisting, even now.

He expected nothing less, driving his whole body into her. She was tight and surprisingly wet at that. Neither of them had ever experienced something quite like this. The Sangheili couldn’t stop himself, and although Six had every opportunity to stab him here and now… she didn’t want to stop him either. He grabbed her other leg and lifted it up, pulling her up until she could lock her ankles around him.

“Hhhggrrr.” Six clutched at his body tight, with her fingers and her legs and her pussy gripping him, wettening his cock every inch of the way. He drew back and then pounded her against the wall again. The sounds of hard fucking rang through the cell block, of groans both human and alien against the lurid slapping of bodies in congress.

They were soon joined by more interlopers. A pair of Brutes came in, inquiring with force on the status of their fallen comrades. Six saw them first, looking over Saranee’s shoulder.

As he relentlessly fucked her, she drew his plasma pistol off of his hip and unloaded into one of the savage Brutes, felling him in just a few shots.

The other alien took cover behind a nearby pod. Saranee whirled around, bracing Six against his body with one hand on the small of her back. He walked with her like she was some kind of harness attached to him and stooped low to pick up the rifle that she had killed her would-be executioner with. Still grunting in exhortations of pleasure, the Sangheili advanced right upon the Brute’s hiding place and vented the rifle into him until it once more burned hot.

Saranee then threw it aside and grabbed Six by her ass, two handfuls of her firm glutes… he wasted no time giving it to her. She began to bounce on his cock, the wet slaps getting louder and faster as he bent his knees and used her like a sex toy.

His wild movements led him to shift his weight onto the pod and he knocked it down, providing them the perfect platform. The alien laid her down across the pod and hunched over her, his hands at each side of the woman’s head.

He rutted into her like a feral animal, growling with every thrust. She let out moans of exertion, “Unh, unh, hghhh!”

And then he came. Throwing all his weight into one final climactic push, Saranee filled her instantly. She felt the warmth and the thickness in her very womb, setting off a chain reaction of her own pleasure that hurtled her into a full body orgasm. Six moaned, clutching at his body until her fingers dug into his skin and her legs quaked. He thoroughly filled her up, the excess pouring out onto the surface beneath. Thick glossy semen, less opaque than a human’s but just as viscous, began to pour out from where they were joined. Saranee kept going, thrusting away as he came, utterly depleting himself.

She was so wonderfully full… and when he pulled his cock back, she felt the gushing torrent of hot alien cum follow after his departure. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she fell limp, the last vestiges of her resistance leaving her.

Saranee straightened his back, looking down upon the woman impaled upon his cock. He marvelled at the sheen of sweat upon her skin, dappled brown and white by her strange and beautiful condition. The pattern had colored one of her nipples light and one of them dark. They rose and fell with every breath, and he watched with fascination as her abs tightened and loosened. He felt her squeezing on his cock to the rhythm… little aftershocks of pleasure occasionally jolting her body into spasms.

The alien let out a sigh of relief as his own ardor receded, all the pent up lust suddenly draining from him. How indeed did he savor this victory! They were both panting, strained from the exertion.

“Spartan… now will you fight alongside me?” He asked, standing up straight and offering his hand. He was still dripping to the floor.

“Against who?” She warily asked. Six was just starting to like him, so she thought he had better choose his next words carefully. After all that, it would be a shame if they had to go back to trying to kill each other.

“We are betrayed.” Saranee answered, “Our Covenant has been broken and at last the Prophets’ lies have been revealed. It seems our people now fight a common foe. Humans and Sangheili together at last… Strange twist of fate, isn’t it?”

He almost seemed to smile.

“Alright.” She took his hand and sat up, cum still leaking down her thighs and over the smooth metal polish of the pod beneath her, “But I’ll need a weapon.”

…  
…  
…

Brutes stood at the bridge of the ship, the floor littered with dead Grunts and Elites. The chieftain set his gravity hammer down and started barking commands to his subordinates- orders to commandeer the ship and return it to High Charity as a space battle raged on around them.

The Jiralhanae were not particularly adept at shipcraft, their manipulations of the consoles frustrated by their own impatience and aggression. The fools had murdered the Ungoy who could have operated the ship for them.

As they were trying to man the controls, the main door to the bridge slid open. Six and Saranee came out blasting, the Spartan once more clad in her MJOLNIR armor, everything save for the helmet still lamenting on Reach. Saranee was wielding two plasma repeaters while Six preferred the needler for encounters like this.

The Brutes were taken by surprise, many of them falling before they had even gathered their weapons. Together the lovers waded into the carnage, retaking the bridge with ease. The Jiralhanae had no chance, the last of them exploding in a pink cloud of supercombined crystals.

“Bitter retribution.” Saranee declared at the sight of his fallen comrades strewn amongst the enemy dead. He went to one of the consoles and leaned in the holographic display.

She watched and listened as he issued commands over to the whole ship. Even if he was speaking in a language she did not yet understand, Six saw in him a resolute leader of soldiers, decisive and clear in his instructions. He had been waiting a very long time to break free from the Covenant… she could hear the satisfaction in his voice.

Saranee then took personal command of the vessel, banking it off to the side. Six whirled around to the large holographic display situated within the center of the bridge, showing their battlecruiser surrounded by other Covenant ships, friend and foe. Saranee exposed the belly of the ship to the enemy vessel nearest to them and then unleashed its excavation beam upon the Brutes’ craft.

He had hewn the enemy ship in half beneath them. The lights flickered in the control room, evident of the great strain placed upon the vessel. Half of the enemy fleet fled at the sight of such destruction, their battle plans apparently hinging on capturing Saranee’s ship. The rest fell apart under the combined fire of the Sangheili fleet.

As the stars burned before them, Six and Saranee turned to one another, basking in their glorious victory.

As if reading each other's minds, the two threw down their weapons and jumped at each other. With the added weight of her armor, she knocked him onto the ground. Six wasted no time removing everything that was getting in the way of his cock. She coaxed it out just as she had seen him do, the thick meaty shaft springing out and hitting her in the nose.

She grabbed it at the base. Even through her suit’s heavy gloves she could feel just how powerful and virile this thing in her hands was. Six could hardly believe that this powerful manly cock was inside her just a battle ago. How she longed to feel it inside her again- yet neither of them could wait for her to remove all that cumbersome armor.

Six threw herself upon his cock right away, almost choking herself. Saranee threw his head back and let out a rumbling groan of pleasure. The Spartan pumped her hand up and down his length, her knuckles meeting her lips at the end of every stroke and suck.

Already she had fallen in love with this cock, desiring nothing more than to lavish her affections upon it and to bring its owner to orgasm. The alien writhed beneath her as she swiveled her head and jerked him off, her lips forming a tight seal around his throbbing girth. He began to eagerly thrust his hips off of the floor. Six braced her hand against his thigh, pushing against him to try and slow his movements.

Saranee let out a low growl and planted one of his four-digited hands upon her head. He pushed her down, stuffing her throat as full as he could… and came once more. Six pulled away, coughing out hot cum as he began to pour more into her open mouth, then her closed lips, and her chin and neck and across her face… She relentlessly beat him off, sucking on the side of his sensitive head as he continued to spurt thick ropes up into the air… and back down onto the woman fellating him.

His hot cum came out in jets, warming and wettening one half of her face with a generous spray, until it died down to a sputter and then just a dribble. She lapped up the last vestiges of his orgasm, sticking her tongue down the sensitive slit at the tip of his cock and lapping up every last drop.

The alien sighed in absolute bliss, “That thing you did with your mouth…”

Six licked her cum-slathered lips and let go of his wet manhood. It hit his belly with a wet thump. She smiled and waggled her eyebrows, “Oh, I know what the boys like.”

The Elite let out a deep laugh and pulled her up towards his chest, wrapping his arms around her to embrace the warrior. As the space battle died out around them and the Sangheili fleet stood victorious over the betrayers, the two lovers remained together as silence returned to the bridge.

“I suppose you will want to return to your people now.” He said after a long consideration, his voice resigned and melancholy.

Six looked up at him, her considering him for a long time… she stroked his stomach with an idle hand, playfully inching closer and closer to his cock again.

“What else is there?” She asked, rather candidly.

“You could join me.” Saranee proposed, “We’ll chase the ape beasts to their homeworld and lay them low… with you at my side, there is not an army in the galaxy that could stop us.”

“Yeah?” She raised an eyebrow and quirked her head to the side.

He rolled over her and put the Spartan on her back, his hands on her wrists. He pulled them up over her head and covered her in his shadow.

“I would have you every night.” He promised, “I will give you battle… and we will fuck after every victory.”

A smile stretched across her lips…

…  
…  
…

SB-312’s dossier was already full of black ink before the battle for Reach. Afterwards, she was listed as MIA. Most understood that the unofficial motto of the program- ‘Spartans never die’ was just propaganda, yet rumors and myths among the Covenant remnants perplexed the UNSC- tales of a woman in power armor fighting alongside Elites, wearing one of their helmets to replace the one still languishing on Reach. She had been seen across worlds, battling the Brutes and the Covenant remnant alongside former Field Marshal Saranee Was’anur, himself the subject of much fascination among the Office of Naval Intelligence.

Most confounding of all was the reports that they were lovers- a human and a Sangheili of all people, much less the one responsible for glassing most of Reach. After much consideration, ONI decided against investigating these salacious rumors… Some things were better left unknown.


End file.
